


Strike Hot

by midnightweeds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Drinking, F/F, Flirting, One Shot, Rare Pairings, Walk Into A Bar, biker bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 21:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11677065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightweeds/pseuds/midnightweeds
Summary: "I'm Pansy.""That's nice, love." She knocks a shot back. Taps out a message angrily before sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jean shorts.The 'love' was added for fun. To ease the burn. To express disinterest politely.And Pansy wants to scream. Because the girl invadedherspace, and she'd be damned if some out of town freak carrying a 25cm rose sakura was going to ignore her. Not when she'dnoticed-





	Strike Hot

She slides onto the bar stool one away from Pansy, and Pansy almost laughs. Because they're in a biker bar, and she knows that to any new comers, she's looks like the safest option. It's instinct to protect yourself, after all. It's  _normal_.

And a joke.

Because, she is neither safe nor an option. She decided to play along, though. She'd come out to have some fun.

"You're new around here," Pansy comments, looking her over, sipping her whiskey.

She's wearing Gucci loafers and carrying a Birkin, long hair loose down her back. She's as much a sore thumb as she is a sight for tender eyes, and she orders two shots of vodka when the bartender brings her a menu.

"Just passing through." She doesn't look at Pansy. She keeps her eyes on her Blackberry, a crease in her brow and lips tilted in annoyance.

"I'm Pansy."

"That's nice, love." She knocks a shot back. Taps out a message angrily before sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jean shorts.

The 'love' was added for fun. To ease the burn. To express disinterest politely.

And Pansy wants to scream. Because this girl invaded  _her_  space, and she'd be damned if some out of town  _freak_  carrying a 25cm rose sakura was going to ignore her. Not when she's  _noticed_ -

"I'm Padma," she says, her dark eyes finally landing on Pansy, forcing her to swallow whatever cruel thing she'd been about to say.

Padma has a kind gaze and a full mouth and Pansy feels unprepared for the first time in a long time.

"Do you come here often?"

"Ya," Pansy hears herself say, and she's mortified, because it sounds stupid. She feels stupid.

Padma closes the space between them, and Pansy hates herself for noticing the pull of her muscles. The way her hair moves as the fan's breeze catches it. The way her highlight shines against the sweet curve of her cheek, as if she'd been born with it. And there’s a tattoo above her knee, spiky thorns coiling around her thigh in inky black. Pansy’s considers that it might actually say something before reminding herself that she shouldn’t even _care_.

She snaps her eyes back up as Padma says, “I’m starving,” with a laugh. “Do you recommend anything?”

The breath Pansy takes is full of citrus and chocolate. It over powers everything else. "Carrow," she calls. "Two roast chicken dinners. On the tab."

The bartender eyes both women curiously.

"And a bottle of white burgundy, too." Her eyes cut into him when he hesitates. "Is there a problem, Carrow?"

"No, Park, no problem," he replies before putting in the order and polishing two wine glasses.

"Thank you," Padma smiles, eyes glinting.

Carrow pours their glasses after Pansy tastes, leaving them to it as he moves to help other customers.

"It isn't very often we get strangers here," Pansy tells her. "It'd be remiss of me to send you home without showing you how we do things at The Chamber."

Padma watches her mouth unabashedly. She meets Pansy's gaze with a tilt of her lips, and Pansy once again feels off kilter. Being hit or shot or kicked would have made more sense.

"How fortunate of me to run into you, then, Pansy."

Pansy realizes that it's sweat, not a highlight. That all she has on is mascara, causing her long lashes to tint blue in the dim light. It's annoying, because she can't dislike her anymore. She isn't even sure that she had to begin with.

She sips her wine. She wants to ask if she's from Hogwarts, but the question is too risky. It puts too much on the line, especially when she wants-

Well, she isn't sure what she wants. But being from any other region within Hogwarts wasn't going help it.

"What brings you to Slytherin?"

"My friend is getting married."

"Daphne?"

"No, no. Out of towners. Luna, to Ginny-"

"Hogwarts' goalie?" Pansy asks, her heart in her throat and her head ponding.

"Yeah," Padma off handedly says.

She ignores Pansy's very slight gasp, as though she doesn't understand what it means to be from Gryffindor around the bar, and Pansy is reminded of all the times the senior Malfoy called her as foolish as she was beautiful, because she's found someone seemingly just the same.

She continues, not at all concerned, and Pansy hopes that she just happens to be one of those people who weren't involved, however hard pressed you were to find uninvolved Gryffindors.

"They thought a lake wedding was what people needed."

The way she rolls her eyes causes Pansy's hands to itch. She reaches for what's left of her whiskey just as Padma reaches for her second vodka. Her hands tremble when she realizes Padma's means to salute her, but she knocks her tumbler into the shot glass surely.

"Lake Salazar sure is beautiful, though."

It was like a peace offering. She wipes a bit of vodka off her lip, twisting her glass on the bar top. Pansy only hums in response.

"Do you live near here?"

She smirks. "I live in the city, actually. About twenty minutes in."

"Are there no better bars in the city?"

"I like it out here. No frills." Their eyes meet as she says, "Not usually, anyway. Surprises are always pleasant, though."

"I get that," Padma tells her, murmuring a thank you as Carrow brought their food over. "Merlin, this looks good."

"The best. Only regulars know about it, so don't go telling your friends."

Padma laughs, and Pansy's hand freezes over her knife. "They wouldn't be caught dead here."

"What do you do, Padma?" Her name felt strange on Pansy's tongue. She wanted to say it over and over.

"I'm a surgeon, actually."

"Where?"

"The National Hospital," she tells her. "I work directly under Slytherin's very own Dr. Snape," she grinned. "What about you?"

"I'm an accountant."

"Thrilling," Padma comments. "I'd be scared shitless to handle someone else's money."

Pansy laughs. "I don't know how to take that, considering you're a fucking surgeon. And I know Snape-"

"Do you?" She asks, surprised. Her eyes dart over Pansy's face quickly, looking for an explanation, and Pansy realizes that she's worried, too.

"He isn't an easy man to work with."

"Pansy," Padma says, and she doesn't want to hear her name from anyone else again. Her gaze is soft now, smooth and warm and consuming. "Are your eyes green?"

 _Merlin_ , Pansy thinks, hating herself. It wasn't what she expected her to ask, and she's never felt so unearthed.

Watching Padma take a sip of her wine, she says, "Most people think they're black. Thank you for noticing."

Padma brushes her fingers along Pansy's arm, and she chokes at the feel- her touch is cool from the glass, and hot with life. She's sure she'll feel it for days –weeks, even.

"I'd love to notice –to  _learn_ \- more. I've a lot of free time this week." Padma doesn't smile. Not really, at least. Her lips twitch and eyes sparkle and that  _fucking_  not-highlight glints as she looks down at her food. "If you're free."

"Shit," Pansy hisses.

It was a mistake, she realizes, thinking that Padma had chosen the safe option. She'd chosen her on purpose. It's as flattering as it is consuming, because Pansy has never cared that someone was interested in her. Everyone's always interested in her.

But, suddenly it was obvious that Padma wasn't whatever she'd thought her to be. And she wants more. A lot more. More than a week, certainly.

"Where are you from, Padma?"

It was a risk. Stupid and thoughtless, but she has to know. She'd do whatever she wanted, anyway, but she couldn't do it blindly.

"Ravenclaw," she tells her, sucking a bit of the chicken's blueberry glaze from her fingers.

It's a blessing and curse. Every inch of it. Her.  _Them_.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

Ravenclaws were not safe. They weren't dangerous, either, but they were deadly and deceitful. When they wanted to be, at least. And Pansy knew, of course, that they were increasingly becoming a problem.

 _How fortunate it is for me to run into you, then, Pansy_.

But, she works in medicine. She's here for a  _wedding_. They're easily checked facts, and Pansy is certain she's never seen her face in any scout before. 

 _Trust your gut_ , she reminds herself.

She smirks, lips pulling over her teeth alluringly. Hungrily. Shifting in her seat, Pansy turns to face her better, knees brushing her thigh. Padma doesn't pull away; she watches just as pointedly, and Pansy feels as though she's been stretched thin.

It's good, though. It's  _great_.

"No, little bird. I don't see that being a problem at all."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading this random pairing<3
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, it'd mean a lot to me if you followed my new tumblr _[honeyweeds](http://honeyweeds.tumblr.com)_. Drop a line letting me know you're a fan of _Strike Hot_ and I'll write you a mini rare-pair moment! (If you want anything specific, just let me know.) ❤️


End file.
